Wish upon a Star
by Paper Castles
Summary: Wendy Darling is sixteen. A proper Victorian lady. Modest, obedient, polite...and irrevocably in love with Peter Pan. Only she doesn't know it, and now he's back. Oh, dear.
1. Becoming a Lady

All credit goes to J.M. Barrie, who told it first.

It may be noted that my version of Peter and Wendy's tale is not directly based on the disney cartoon or live action version, though many things are similar.

I hope you enjoy.

* * *

Chapter One

* * *

Wendy Darling stood quietly in the gilded hallway, her hands fiddling with the necklace at her throat nervously. The half-dozen girls around her giggled, patting their elegant curls and pretty dresses into place, their nervous manner mirroring her own. A crystal chandelier glittering with candles and hanging directly above them cast a warm, golden hue across the lush burgundy carpet, the glass breaking the light into miniature shards that danced every time the crystals swayed. By chance, the violins suddenly struck up their tune, and vibrations hummed through the mahogany paneled walls, sending the light specks skittering every which way.

Fear had seized Wendy's slender frame, and she stiffened, fixing her eyes on the heavy closed doors before her. Behind them lay a soft red carpet that stretched to the center of a resplendent, circular ballroom filled with hundreds, perhaps thousands of people.

She chided herself internally. She was overreacting. There were most likely only a hundred, perhaps little over fifty. Swiftly closing her eyes, she pictured Celeste, the heroine in the story she'd told herself while doing needlework the week before. Celeste would have been quite at ease at the moment, delighted at the attention that was about to be cast her away. She would have stood tall, thrown back her shoulders, smiled prettily and-

Wendy flicked her eyes open with a sigh. It was impossible. Father would be so disappointed.

She moved her eyes back to the formidable wooden doors, her father's impending let-down sending a new wave of courage her way. She was determined to last it out when a sudden rustling of petticoats alerted her to a presence beside her. She turned, and met the blue eyes of Violet Shaw, the daughter of her father's bank associate. Violet's fair hair had been done up in an ornate, exquisitely grown-up fashion, and Wendy felt suddenly small, and childlike in comparison.

"Do you suppose they're ready yet?" Violet whispered with barely contained excitement.

"I don't know." Wendy whispered back, half-wishing they'd forget about her and let the others go alone. It was not to be, however, for at that very moment the announcer had been given the signal, and the servants hurried to open the heavy doors.

Lady Catherine, wife of the wealthy Lord Melbourne who was graciously hosting the entire affair, fluttered toward them to give rushed, last minute-advice.

"Alright dears, it's almost time now. Remember the steps I taught you! Four steps in, pause, wait for the names, curtsy. Move to the end. Elbows in, hands folded, mince steps."

"What if we forget something?" Evelyn Knight demanded anxiously, wringing her hands in a helpless, frightened manner that jingled the beads on her bracelet. She was a small girl with large emotions that often overtook her, giving the impression she was about to collapse in a faint more often than not.

"You won't." Retorted Elaine Audley suddenly, a look of pure annoyance on her face. She was Lord Melbourne's niece, as she reminded everyone repeatedly should the chance arise, and had already watched three of her four sisters presented. She did not look as if she was about to let Evelyn's fretting ruin her own special day. And a special day it was, not just for Elaine but every girl anxiously waiting with her. Today was the day that all young ladies of sixteen years were to be presented into London's elite society. It would mean the beginning of womanhood, a new and different social circle, and the commencement of courting. Marriage of course, would occur eventually.

"Girls, girls," Lady Catherine chided. "It's just nerves. Breathe deeply before you enter, and look straight ahead. Your families will be quite proud either way, I'm sure. A slight stumble won't disgrace you in their eyes." She chuckled.

Elaine gave a self-righteous sniff, as if to declare the idea of not entering the room elegantly ridiculous, and took a step forward, preparing herself. Her parents had specifically asked she enter first, much to the indignation of other parents, who were sure their own well-bred daughters deserved the honor. It was not a matter of class however, but connections. It was at Lord Melbourne's estate that the event was being held, and she was, much to everyone else's dismay, Lord Melbourne's favorite niece.

Lady Catherine interrupted the tense atmosphere with a shocking and unexpectedly girlish squeal, giving Evelyn's small frame a gentle push forward.

"It's time! Alright dears, hold your heads high now. Backs straight remember, a lady doesn't slouch."

The doors had been opened a crack, and a slit of light peeped through. At a sudden surge in the violin music they were thrown open, and the startled girls were met with a sea of curious faces. After a seconds uncertainty, Elaine took a confident four steps into the room and waited.

There was a pause, and then: "Miss Elaine Audley, daughter of Lady Margaret and Lord Phillip Audley." The speaker's deep voice resonated in the room as Elaine dipped a graceful curtsy, her long dress brushing the floor. There were smiles and polite clapping as she swept to the end of the carpet.

Elaine's entrance a success, the other girls stepped forward eagerly. Violet went next, flashing a dazzling smile at a cluster of young men to her right, momentarily stunning all of them. The noise of clapping grew as she proceeded down the aisle, her family being well-liked by everyone. Evelyn sailed into the room right after, and no one would have guessed her previous apprehension.

Wendy, now standing on the edge of where the red carpet began, was staring out at the faces around her with something close to panic. Her eyes, dark against her pale skin, had widened. She heard the pause after Evelyn's finale, took a hesitant step forward and froze.

A hundred something heads had swiveled toward her, and she found she could not move. The seconds ticked by, the music continuing cheerfully as the smiles around her faltered and turned to confusion.

Wendy's courage was on the verge of collapse when a curly brown head suddenly popped out of a nearby crowd. Michael Darling flashed his sister an impatient little grin, and beckoned her excitedly with one small hand. "Come on, Wendy!"

It was enough to break the spell, and Wendy flushed, throughly embarrassed but utterly thankful for little brothers. She surged forward, waited for her name, and dipped a quick curtsy before rushing toward the end of the carpet in as lady-like a way as she could currently manage.

The rest of the debutante's followed swiftly and without mishap. They were standing together, shoulder to shoulder in a neat line as they'd been instructed to by Lady Catherine, when the music changed to a spirited waltz. The young men drifted forward, and the girls exchanged blushing smiles.

All proper and necessary introductions had been made beforehand, and each moved toward their assigned partner. Wendy's heart thumped unsteadily as Jack Taylor came towards her, reminding herself there was only another hour and a half to endure before she was free.

He reached her and bowed as was expected, before offering his hand.

"Ms. Darling?" He smiled, asking for a dance. He was almost an exact replica of his father, with an abundance of the famous, curly dark Taylor hair.

Wendy tried hard to keep her composure. Goodness, she was terrible with boys!

"Yes, of course." She managed to reply stiffly without looking at him. She blushed as he placed a hand on her waist, and tried desperately to distract herself from the awkward ordeal.

_Celeste._

What about Celeste? She thought frantically. She'd been imagining the part where the heroine had escaped her captors and was about to flee while needle working last week. Micheal had demanded she tell the rest that evening, and she'd barely had a moment to plan the next phase of the story. Well, here was her chance.

Oblivious to Jack twining their hands together as he pulled her onto the dance floor, Wendy pictured the scene in her mind and focused. It worked. She was so far gone in her fantasy world, she jumped when he nudged her shoulder gently.

"Wendy," He teased, amused."Aren't you going to speak to me?"

Her surroundings and current uncomfortable situation all came rushing back, and she blinked like someone entering a bright room from the dark. Forcing herself to look up, she met his dark eyes with a bewildered expression.

"Haven't I ?"

"We've been dancing for five minutes in silence." He informed her, not unkindly. Her face had held a dreamy, detached expression only moments before. He wondered, not for the first time, what on earth it was that young ladies thought about.

Wendy bent her head apologetically, discreetly trying to place some distance between their swaying bodies. He didn't notice, and she edged further back.

She caught a glimpse of Evelyn swishing past them in the arms of Richard Manswell, looking radiant.

The debutante's were no longer the only ones on the dance floor, and almost everyone had now joined in. The couple dancing before them moved to the side, and Wendy was suddenly given a direct view of a red-faced John Darling extending a hand toward Lucy Knight, Evelyn's younger sister. A frightened look flashed across the young girls face, and she backed away going pink.

Wendy stifled a laugh. She would tease him for that one, just as he'd teased her over Peter.

_Peter._

A curious flash of feeling flared up inside her at the thought of him. It had been such a long time. Every day that passed made her anxious not to forget, to remember every word, every look, every moment they'd spent in Neverland. It seemed almost dreamlike now, as she recalled waking up to see him, fumbling around her room, trying to find that naughty shadow.

She smiled, almost grinning at the thought, unaware of Jack's curious gaze now fixed on her face.

He'd come back twice after that first time, just like he'd promised. It had been several months later, sometime in late August. They'd been ecstatic to see him of course, and they'd had another grand adventure. The third time had been near Christmas. After, just before he left, he'd promised her again. _Promised_ he'd return.

The smile slipped from her face as she stared over Jack's shoulder unseeingly, unaware his expression had changed to concern.

She'd waited for him. Every night. Micheal and John too, ever eager for another chance to fly. Summer had turned to fall, fall to winter, winter to spring. And so four years had passed, slowly and then faster and faster until here she was, sixteen years old and desperate to convince herself she _hadn't _dreamed it all. He _was _real. He had to be.

Her body tensed suddenly, as she focused all her energy into believing this, terrified of losing her faith in him. Jack cast her another worried glance, and shook her gently.

"Wendy, are you alright? You look-" He paused. The following word had been _heartbroken_, but it seemed to him to be to personal an inquiry. Perhaps there was another lad she fancied who'd turned her down. His grip on her hand tightened unintentionally at the thought of this, and his eyes swept the ballroom in a hawk-like manner, as if he could detect the boy guilty of hurting her with simply a look.

"Oh, I'm fine thank-you." Wendy replied quickly, slightly taken aback at the expression that had come into his eyes.

The music ended, and he brought them to a stop with a flourish. He bowed again, and Wendy felt a faint tug of guilt for ignoring him. It wasn't like her to do that intentionally. It was only having to dance with him, or any boy really, that made her shy.

She curtsied politely, and thanked him. The minute she was free to go, she hurried across the crowded dance floor toward the exit. It was difficult, for Lady Catherine caught her eye and beckoned her over, and then Mrs. Alder offered compliments over her dress, and a dozen other socialites flocked towards her, offering advice and consoling over her somewhat disastrous entrance, claiming it hadn't been all bad.

"In fact," Mrs. Knight added, chuckling, "I believe the boys found it quite endearing, Jack Taylor especially." She sent Wendy a knowing smile.

Wendy blushed furiously. She did not want to know what the boys thought. She wanted to get out of the room immediately, before her parents or anyone else could find her. She gave Mrs. Knight a quick, polite smile and excused herself, claiming a headache. They clucked their tongues reprovingly, blaming it on the excitement of the day (naturally overwhelming on a delicate constitution such as her own) and granted her leave.

Wendy walked toward the big doors at an acceptable speed, maintaining her posture as she felt Lady Catherine's eyes follow her. The minute she'd passed the threshold, she broke into a run, a jolt of independence surging through her veins. It was something she rarely did, abandoning all responsibility like this. She was sure however, that this one time, her parents wouldn't mind.

She'd come to the end of the great hallway, and paused, deciding to use the staircase to the upper floor balcony. It was almost big enough to be termed a veranda, and wrapped around the east side of the house giving a splendid view of the gardens below. Wendy pushed open the double doors, and walked out into the cool night air, the sky already glittering with stars. The balcony was accentuated with elegantly carved wooden balustrades, and she leaned against them now as her gaze traveled across the shadowy garden below her.

She could see into the ballroom from here, through a large bay window set in the protruding side of the wall to her right. The window cast a large, yellow patch of light on the bushes and trees below it, lending an enchanted, almost magical presence to the garden with the shadows it threw on the surrounding foliage.

Letting her chin rest in her hands, Wendy turned her face up toward the sky, marveling at it's beauty.

She had a dreamy, almost embarrassing love of skies, especially at night. It was impossible not to, not after that first time.

_Second star to the right, and straight on till morning!_

His voice came from nowhere, echoing in her head like yesterday. Instinctively, she studied the stars, trying to find it. There was a pause, like time standing still, and she was certain the bright one, the one just above her head, had winked.

Then, before her eyes, a burst of light illuminated the heavens. It shone briefly, then gentled to a glow, streaking across the inky blackness before her. Her breath caught, and she made a wish. Quickly, eagerly, before it was too late.

She watched it continue to fall, fading as it went, transfixed. Something in her chest tingled, and she shivered suddenly. The doors flew open behind her, and Mr. Darling entered the balcony.

"My goodness, Wendy! At last. We've been looking the place over for you. My dear, you will catch your death of a cold out here."

"Yes, Father." She replied obediently. She let him put his arm around her and pull her into house, but not before she'd cast a last glance over her shoulder.

This time, she was positive the star had winked.

Twice.

* * *

All comments welcome.


	2. Visitor

* * *

Chapter Two

* * *

It was midnight when the Darling family finally settled into the carriage that would bring them home. Mrs. Darling, an exhausted Micheal falling asleep across her lap, reached tenderly for her daughters hand.

"You were lovely, dear. I didn't doubt you for a second."

At thirty-six, Mary Darling still looked very much the girl, her dark hair pulled up in a simple, elegant bun. She had a soft, gentle voice that had soothed her children through many a thunderstorm and wounded pride, and a calm, kindly disposition that attracted people to her.

Wendy laughed lightly, smiling at her mother gratefully. "I did all the doubting for myself. That moment...all those eyes." She shuddered.

Her mother answered with a reminiscent laugh of her own, absently stroking Micheal's curly head.

"You shouldn't have. I did the same thing, only I was worse. I bolted, and didn't stop till I'd reached the coat room and hid myself in a closet."

Wendy's hand flew to her mouth unwittingly. "Mother, you didn't!"

Her mother smiled girlishly, her features transforming as she remembered. "Oh, I most certainly did. My parents were scandalized. I had to go back and do it again."

"How awful." Wendy sympathized, flushing at the very idea.

"Yes, it was." Her mother agreed. Across the carriage, Mr. Darling chuckled. He had an open, intelligent face, his emotions clearly visible in the gray eyes that looked out from behind his square, silver rimmed glasses. A look of amusement flashed across them now as he leaned toward them, a hint of a smile playing on his lips.

"And that Wendy, is how I met your mother. She was the Girl Who Entered Twice. How could I not notice her?"

Mrs. Darling gave him an affectionate smack on the arm. "Don't be ridiculous. Meredith White was much prettier."

"Meredith White," Mr. Darling said seriously, "had and still has the largest nose I have ever seen. I prefer dainty noses, thank-you."

Mrs. Darling threw up her gloved hands with an expression of mock despair, and laughed.

"Don't listen to your father, Wendy. Dainty nose or not, I had to walk that carpet again, and it was mortifying. I understand your hesitancy completely."

Wendy sighed. "Well I _am_ glad it's over, but now there's the social season..." She stopped, trying not to imagine what sort of activities she'd be forced to partake in.

Mr. Darling gave a chuckle. "The season, my dear, is nothing to worry about. There are plenty of young women your age starting with you. You'll think your life dreadfully dull now when you look back later."

Wendy nodded, but inside, she disagreed entirely. There was nothing dull about her life. She lived in the stories she wove, and so escaped the sheltered world she knew. Her parents loved her, but they were protective, often overly so. Her only means were books, and she devoured them, one after the other. She visited her fathers study regularly, usually at night, when she could snatch the stories she really wanted to read- not the prim girlish tales and pretty poems he often laid on her dresser.

Her parents understood her love of stories, but they were hardly aware of her utter passion for tales of mystery and intrigue, especially those of blood-thirsty pirates and untold sums of gold.

She had often wondered if they'd ever truly caught on to her and her siblings visits to Neverland, and had finally decided they never would. The first time they'd returned, both parents had been anxious, worried of their whereabouts. They'd told them of course, and stories of Neverland had been met with much gentle laughter and secret smiles exchanged between the two. A child's game their faces had said, Wendy's stories taking flight. Yet as the days passed, the adults memory of the event had seemed to dull and fade, and then disappear entirely. The second time they'd left, only Mrs. Darling had asked a question. The third, they hadn't notice at all.

It was a strange, mysterious thing and Wendy still puzzled over it, convinced it contained some clue of Peter's return or lack of it.

There was a slight jolt as the carriage finally rattled to a stop, startling Wendy from her reverie. Before anyone could move, John sat forward, his face fearful.

"Do you think...would she...I haven't got a dainty nose, have I?" He blurted.

"I think Lucy Knight likes your nose just fine." Mrs. Darling said kindly, an unusually playful look in her soft brown eyes. John's face went red, and he uttered several sputtering syllables before exiting the carriage hastily.

"Lucy's caught herself a beau." Mr. Darling remarked observationally.

"Good heavens, I hope not." Mrs. Darling said, suddenly worried. "He's just twelve."

"These things start early, my dear," Mr. Darling soothed. "Nothing to fuss about."

Micheal snored loudly, and they both laughed. Wendy however, remained strangely quiet.

* * *

The following morning began uneventfully, and Wendy was requested to take Micheal to Kensington Gardens. He was restless from the rainy weather they'd had the previous week, and longing to "romp about" as Mrs. Darling put it. After a stern warning from Mr. Darling to keep a sharp eye on the mischievous Micheal, they set out, Micheal flatly refusing to hold Wendy's hand as they crossed the busy street.

"I'm a man, Wendy." He'd said indignantly after she'd reached for his hand. She'd looked at him then, acknowledging he'd grown a good deal, but not nearly as much as John, who stood level with her now.

"Very well Sir Micheal. I won't tell you of Celeste's escape tonight. You may go straight to bed."

He looked up quickly at that, his face regretful. "Alright, alright. You can hold my _arm._ I swear I won't get run over."

"Don't swear anything." Wendy corrected. "It's impolite."

Micheal muttered something distinctly along the line of _girls,_ and grudgingly let her pull him safely across the street. The minute they reached the grass, he tugged his arm from her grasp, and bolted towards the playground, were a juvenile game of rugby was currently in session.

Wendy stared longingly at the swing set, and then noticed Elaine Audley walking around the green with another girl, their parasols tilted so as to deflect the sun. She'd have to be proper then. It would not do to be seen by an Audley when engaging in any sort of childish activity. Inwardly sighing, Wendy walked toward the nearest bench and sat down.

Posture erect, hands folded properly in her lap and legs swept lady-like to the side, she thought about forgotten kingdoms. She'd been reading about them in an old, rather dirty book she'd discovered in the study. It was a fascinating concept, and she felt the wisp of a story sparkle inside her, a vague idea beginning to define itself in her mind.

She was soon lost in her imaginings, and watched Micheal play through faraway eyes. The suddenness of two shadows falling across her woke her abruptly from her daydream. She looked up to see Elaine and the companion, both gloved and dressed in white lace.

"Wendy," Elaine said prettily. "How nice to see you here. It's a lovely day, isn't it?"

Wendy could sense a sort of impending trap in her words, but was too interested in returning to her fantasy to pay much notice.

"Yes," She agreed."It is."

"I was just telling Nancy about the debutante ball," Elaine continued. "It was splendid, wasn't it? Your entrance was so _very_ amusing."

Wendy nodded absently.

Elaine gave Nancy an almost smug look, and continued. "As endearing as you were, I've another reason for wishing to speak to you. I'm sure you remember the social my parents give every spring. It is, of course, Audley tradition. I've asked Jack to be my escort." She paused here, and when this did not elicit any sort of jealous response from Wendy, continued somewhat impatiently.

"He has asked that you may come as well."

Wendy was brought fully to the present at that, uttering a startled "_Pardon?_". She was well aware the Darlings have never been called upon to attend a private Audley social, since relations between Mr. Darling and Elaine's father were rather strained. The reason for this remained a mystery.

Elaine repeated Jack's request, her face pinched. "Thank-you." Wendy replied finally, quite at loss for what to say.

Elaine looked further annoyed."You may also bring an escort of course, or your...brothers." She wrinkled her nose at this as Michael appeared, his trousers muddied. She was clearly revolted at his current state, and sensing this, he impishly stuck his tongue out at her.

"Michael!" Wendy cried, horrified.

"It's quite alright, Wendy." Elaine replied frostily. "He is a _Darling_. It can't be helped." With this, she took Nancy's arm, and swept haughtily away.

"She's horrid." Michael said contemptuously. "I hope nobody marries her and she gets as fat and ugly as Aunt Agnes."

"Michael," Wendy said shocked. "You mustn't ever do such a thing again! You will apologize to her immediately. What's more, you will tell father what you've done."

"I won't, either." Michael said stubbornly. "You get more stuck up and bossy every day. You're going to be just like her."

This hurt Wendy more than she would show, and she stood up and began to walk quickly toward the street without saying a word. She knew her behavior could often be seen as prudish, but it was what they expected of her- Lady Catherine, Headmistress, even Mrs. Darling. To be a lady was to be dignified and appropriate, and above all, _proper_. Her response to Micheal's insolent act had been very proper. So why then, did she feel so defensive?

Because he was right. She _was_ getting worse. Only the adults seemed to think she was getting _better_.

What had Mrs. Nelson said last week at afternoon tea?

_My, Wendy, you're such a lady. Nearly a grown up! _

Wendy sighed, frustrated. Elaine _was_ a horrid girl, and secretly, she wished Michael's ghastly wish would come true. Only she could never say such a thing, or act as if she did. It was all terribly confusing, and very unfair. Not for this first time, she wished for the freedom of having being born a boy. They could romp and yell and sail and see the pyramids and climb mountains and state their opinions and no one minded in the least.

She stopped her rapid walking, and waited patiently for Michael. He appeared, looking slightly remorseful, his hands tucked sheepishly into his dirty trousers.

"Aw Wendy, I didn't mean it like that. You just get grown up a lot. I liked it better when-"

Here he stopped, uncertain as to whether he should continue.

"When...?" Wendy asked gently.

"When...when I was small. When we played pirates. When Peter was here!" He burst out. " You let me do anything." He finished.

Wendy was taken aback. "Not...anything."

Michael grinned. " Almost."

"That was so long ago, you can't really remember-"

"I do remember." Michael interrupted defiantly. "I do! I remember it all. Peter makes everything different. He makes...he makes _you _different."

Wendy was silent for a moment. Then she said, "Peter's not here Michael. Now let's go home, Mother will be waiting."

* * *

They arrived to find the house in a flurry of activity. An unusually distracted Mrs. Darling met them at the door.

"Wendy, Michael. Thank goodness you're back." She turned to give a quick order to the maid about changing the table linens, then set about straightening all the nearby picture frames.

"What is it Mother?" asked Michael curiously.

"Your Aunt Louise decided to visit much earlier than expected." Mrs. Darling replied worriedly.

"Is she here right now?" Wendy asked, surprised.

"Yes. Upstairs, unpacking. I'm trying to get the house in order before she rejoins us."

"Is she nice?" asked Michael, who'd been too small to remember her last visit.

Mrs. Darling laughed. "Have a look at what she brought for you. It's been put on your bed."

Michael immediately took off towards his room.

"You can go take your seat at the table already Wendy dear, we'll be eating in a minute." Said Mrs. Darling.

Wendy went and sat down, noticing their best china had been put out. Something wet licked her leg, and she knowingly lifted up the tablecloth.

"Nana! No frolicking under the table." The large dog barked affectionately in response, it's white bonnet lopsided. Wendy laughed. "Alright. You may stay. But you mustn't lick the guest."

"That's quite alright, I've got three mischievous pups of my own at home," a cheerful voice said. Wendy looked up to see a small, dimpled woman dressed entirely in red beaming at her. Her wildly curly hair was piled to a staggering height, and held in place by several precariously placed jeweled pins. Her very presence seemed to fill the room and brighten it.

"Aunt Louise." Wendy said shyly, faintly remembering the smiling face.

"The very one. Heavens above child, you've shot up like a weed." She paused momentarily. "That's rather a nasty example, isn't it? On the contrary, you look the very opposite of a weed. Your hair's up now is it? Yes, I suppose sixteen is when that rubbish starts. I did so like those bows your wore in your curls." She tsked sadly, and plopped herself into a chair.

Wendy stared. She had never seen a lady _plop _herself into anything.

Mr. Darling and a slightly flustered Mrs. Darling entered the room, followed by both John and a glowing Michael. Mr. Darling gave his sister a quick peck on the cheek, and took a seat next to her.

"I was just speaking with Miss Wendy here," Aunt Louise said, ignoring the serving maid and helping herself to her own biscuits. "She has grown, hasn't she? And look at those eyes. She's a dreamer I expect, they've got that starry look. And John, he's half a man already! Mark my words, there'll be a beard soon. Gracious, time runs like the wind. I must be getting old."

"You, old?" Mr. Darling chuckled. "Hardly."

Aunt Louise harrumphed something, and then turned to John. "How do you like it?"

"Very well. Thank you." John said grinning. Wendy spotted a thick, shiny encyclopedia of sorts tucked under his chair.

"And you?" She asked, turning to Michael. He nodded so enthusiastically, he nearly upset his soup bowl. She turned back to Wendy, her sharp green eyes amused. "I suppose you're wondering what your gift is, Wendy." She said.

"No really, it's alright-" Wendy began, flushing.

Aunt Louise waved her off. "You didn't think I forgot you, did you? Nonsense! Your gift simply can't be wrapped. Now, am I right to say you've never been outside London?" Aunt Louise asked, somewhat disapprovingly.

"Well, yes-" Wendy began.

"A disgrace," Aunt Louise huffed. "A girl like you ought to be seeing the world. Which, my dear, is why I have decided to take you to Scotland with me this summer."

For a moment, the room was entirely silent. George Darling exchanged a startled, worried look with his wife as Nana whined anxiously under the table.

"Scotland?" Wendy breathed finally, hardly daring to believe it.

"Indeed." Aunt Louise replied jovially. "Did you know the men wear skirts there? Now there's a story for you girl, they've never seen the likes of it here. And the fields! Greener than envy."

"What about bagpipes?" John asked curiously. " Do they really play those?"

"Entirely too often if you ask me, but they're lovely when you're not trying to sleep."

"How many times have you been?" Wendy asked, faint with excitement.

"Three times my girl, twice for a funeral and once for a wedding. I was good friends with a girl named Mildred when I was your age, and she was a Scot through and through, so miserable here in London the poor dear had to move back. She's got just heaps of relatives there, and there's always one dying or getting married. It's only a matter of time really, before I'm sent for again." Aunt Louise chortled.

"But...would that be alright, me accompanying you?" Wendy asked uncertainly.

"Nonsense! If they like a batty old woman, they'll certainly like you."

"You're not batty." Michael disagreed.

"I certainly _am_." Aunt Louise said sternly. "And don't you ever let anyone tell you otherwise, young man."

* * *

It was late when they finally retired from the dining room. Aunt Louise was an engaging story teller, with a lifetimes worth of marvelous tales from her travels. Through it all, Wendy had sat in a sort of silent awe, wondering if the future she had once imagined for herself might not be so impossible after all. If Aunt Louise could travel, plop herself into chairs, and disregard marriage and children as was expected then surely, possibly...couldn't she?

Of course she wanted children someday, but not now. Not here. It frightened her to think that becoming a wife was her only option, the only respectable thing she could ever do. To whom would she tell her stories? At what time could she day dream? Read her books? Write her poems?

Never, it seemed. Only endless rounds of tea parties and socials, with few other proper feminine pursuits, play acting as a pirate certainly not among them. Wendy flushed. Of course she would _never _admit she still loved to play act, or that being a pirate remained a secret, childish wish. What would her parents think?

She sighed, absently looking at the moonbeams streaked across the wooden floor. It was still the same beloved nursery, not a bookcase nor dresser moved. Of course John had taken his bed when he'd gone across the hall, but Micheal had asked them to leave his there. He still liked to sneak into it some nights when he wanted a story, or simply to sleep in the safety of the nursery, which possessed it's own special magic to ensure a deep, dream-filled slumber.

When the house was finally quiet, Wendy slid silently from her bed and pulled a shawl around her shoulders. The little gas lamp with the roses painted on it's porcelain base stood on her dresser, and she hooked her finger into it's holder and walked toward the nursery window, the floor creaking beneath her feet.

She set it carefully on the ledge and crawled up beside it, curling herself into the little seat as she'd done so many times before. When she'd wrapped herself into the shawl, and only the hem of her nightgown peeped out, she released a quiet breath and leaned her head against the glass. London was a faint glow beneath her, the smoke drifting silently from it's chimney's as the city slept.

_Like me_, Wendy thought._ I should be sleeping._

But she couldn't.

Not until...not until...

Her eyes fell shut, the night sky before her sparkling with promise. If she could have seen the shimmer of the stars just then, heard the faint laughter in the breeze, she would have known her wish had been granted. But Wendy Darling only stirred in her sleep, and dreamed on, blissfully unaware of the magic to come.

* * *


	3. Broken Dreams

* * *

Chapter Three

* * *

Wendy awoke to a crash. There was a loud bark , a pattering of feet, and then Michael threw the door open and closed it hastily behind him, letting himself fall back against it with a thump. His eyes were wide.

"I didn't do it Wendy, honest!"

"Didn't do what Michael?" She asked, brushing a hand sleepily across her eyes as she seated herself on the edge of the bed, the lace on her nightgown brushing the floor. She'd been dreaming about the debutante ball and her infamous entrance, and reminded herself it had already been a week, and it wasn't likely anyone remembered anymore. Or so she hoped.

"Break Mother's angel." Michael said, his voice small.

Wendy stopped trying to undo her braid, and turned to look at him, alarmed.

"The painted one Michael? The one with porcelain wings?"

He nodded slowly as Wendy gave a soft gasp.

She jumped to her feet. "Micheal Henry Darling! What in heaven's name do you think you're-" She broke off abruptly, her eyes riveted to his side. In his left hand, half-hidden behind him, was the hilt of a beautiful wooden sword.

Wendy stepped toward it, opening her mouth as if to speak, then promptly closed it again. Her gaze followed the line of the sleek blade downwards, toward the curve of it's rounded point. The blade had been painted a lustrous silver, with time being given to add depth and shine, so that one could almost believe it would wink like real metal in the sun.

"Where did you get that Michael?" Wendy asked, a little breathless. Visions of Hook and his cohorts, of flashing blades and ticking clocks and Peter's laughter swam before her eyes.

Michael grinned widely, the broken angel already wiped from his conscience. "Lou gave it to me as her gift! I think she's alright for a girl Wendy, don't you? Even Mother's never got us a sword!' He charged toward the fireplace, slashing at an invisible foe.

Wendy was momentarily thrown, even as she understood Michael's elated expression at dinner the night before, as he'd eagerly thanked their aunt.

"_Lou_?" She questioned, taken aback.

Micheal shrugged. "She told me to call her that. May I call you Wen too?"

"You may not." Wendy said laughing lightly, still admiring the sword, longing to touch it, to feel the weight of it in her hands.

"Are you jealous?" Micheal teased, waving it in front of her, before sliding it into an imaginary sheath.

"No." Wendy said quickly, trying to convince herself she really wasn't. It was a child's toy, and she was no longer a child. In spite of herself, she was remembering the countless evenings they'd spent playing pirates, the window seat always the ship, the small drop to the floor always a death leap into dark, alligator infested waters hundreds of feet below. She wondered when they'd stopped, how a childhood pastime could vanish so quickly.

"Wendy?" Michael asked, interrupting her thoughts, his eyes bright. He seemed to read her mind, for his eager face asked a silent question, and Wendy hesitated. Sensing his chance, Michael caught her hand, and pulled her quickly out the door and down the hall.

"I found it in the linen closet, look!" He said excitedly, yanking several winter quilts out haphazardly as he uncovered the top of a wooden chest that Wendy recognized immediately.

Before she could respond, he'd pulled it out and pried the lid open. The capes, the silly hats, the wooden swords, and Teddy-- all were there, waiting to be found. Wendy fell back a step, overcome with an emotion she could not name. Her heart skittered nervously, the objects triggering an excited, tingling sensation within her as memories of their adventures came back, bringing a warm, body wide glow. They were so clear, so permanently etched in her mind, she could feel the rush of wind in her hair as they'd flown over London; the blush on her cheeks at Peter's cool hand in her own, the first glimpse of Neverland between parting white clouds.

It was this Wendy thought of as Michael handed her a sword, and this that unconsciously brought forth a small part her true nature, so carefully hidden inside. She quite forgot the grown up Wendy for a moment, and shrieked with childish delight as Michael lunged at her, and she deflected the blow. They took off down the hall, Michael in hot pursuit as she ran toward the stairs, and then ducked beneath the banister as the wooden blade swished above her head.

There was an ardent battle of slashing swords down the curving steps, as they twisted and turned, avoiding the blows and trying to inflict their own. When Michael triumphantly jabbed the tip of his sword at Wendy's chest, her weapon clattered to the floor, and she let herself fall with a moan; clutching the wound dramatically. He jumped toward her, ready to deliver the final swipe, when he suddenly slipped and fell.

It was at this moment that Mrs. Darling found them, bright-eyed and laughing as they lay in a heap on the floor. Her eyes widened as they fell on Wendy, her nightgown in a tangle and her hair undone, wearing an expression her mother had never seen, or if she had, did not remember. It was a look of youth, and of happiness, but most of all, it was a look of a memory secretly enjoyed.

Mrs. Darling paused at it, studied it for a moment, unaware of how long it had been absent from it's wearers face. It was a motherly effort on her part, but a futile one, for such expressions are never meant to be shared nor deciphered, and what Wendy thought of as she lay there smiling remained her secret alone.

"Wendy!" Mrs. Darling said finally, her daughter's unkempt appearance and current state of lying comfortably on the floor, reminding her of the scolding she'd been about to give.

Wendy, previously unaware of her mother's presence, sprang guiltily to her feet.

"I was just coming to get you... your father would like to see you in the study." Mrs. Darling said hesitantly.

Something flashed in her eyes, and Wendy did not miss it.

"Yes, Mother." She said quickly, still flushed from her embarrassment at behaving so carelessly.

Mrs. Darling watched her go, and when her daughter had disappeared down the hall, Michael was quite sure he heard her whisper;

"_I'm sorry, dear_."

* * *

Wendy paused before the cherry wood doors of the study, her intuition flickering. She felt almost as if her sense of perception had been heightened today, and could perceive an unease in the atmosphere of her home that she had never noticed before. She considered what her father might want to say, and unable to think of anything bad, proceeded into the study without further thought.

Mr. Darling was sitting as his desk with his spectacles lowered, absorbed in a large book. At Wendy's entrance, he raised his head, and pushed the glasses back up his nose. He motioned for her to sit down, and she did so, curious over the unusual formality.

"Yes, Father?" Wendy asked.

He gave her a weak smile, then leaned toward her, interlacing his hands on the desk as his brow furrowed.

"Wendy..." He began, then sighed, rubbing his forehead tiredly."I don't know how to tell you this my dear. In fact, I don't _want_ to tell you this, but it must be done." He gave her a look, then focused on a spot above her head, and continued.

"My sister...your Aunt Louise, has, as you may have noticed...slightly altered ideas of, how shall I put this? Women's roles in society. Yes, that's it exactly. She is a free spirit and always has been, a sort of black sheep of the family in many ways." He paused. "She has a way of...believing in things that ought not be believed in, or at least openly advertised to be believed in by a woman, no less. It's not something I hold against her Wendy, but it's not something I agree with either. She has many...ambitions and ideas that I do not find acceptable, and it is for this reason that..." He paused again. "Can you understand why I am telling you this?"

Wendy shook her head, though she was suddenly anxious over what it was he wished to tell her.

Mr. Darling stood up, avoiding Wendy's inquiring gaze as he busily polished his glasses. "Your mother and I discussed this all last night, and we both agreed it's for the best. We know your aunt's heart was in the right place, as were her intentions, but it simply isn't proper. You're a young woman now, Wendy, and easily influenced by those around you." He looked up. " My sister is a charming, well meaning woman, but the fact of the matter is, she has not made many well-advised decisions in her past. I do not wish you to think that everything she says or suggests is in your best interests. It is for this reason... we have decided...I'm sorry Wendy, but you cannot go to Scotland this summer."

In that moment, a dream Wendy had long cherished shattered, and the face staring back at Mr. Darling went white. She looked at him, wordlessly, too stunned to respond.

Mr. Darling was still speaking, explaining his reasons; that he did not want Wendy following in his sister's footsteps, traveling the world unchaperoned, and as a spinster at that.

"It would be quite scandalous if she didn't stay with respectable families wherever she went, and even then, it's still frowned upon. Her reputation is upheld my me, and our family's high standards, but there is always gossip. You have to see Wendy, that I am doing this for you. I could already see it last night, the way you listened to her speak, that you were enchanted by her way of thinking. To go to Scotland... it would be the worst possible decision Wendy, especially now, what with propositions for your future by certain individuals already being spoken of. That this traveling idea for young women is somehow appropriate...there is nothing worse then getting fanciful ideas into a young persons head."

"Father," Wendy said shakily, unable to bear it anymore. "May I go now?"

"Yes, you may. But you do understand, don't you?"

"I understand Father." Wendy got out, her lips trembling.

But she didn't. Not at all.

* * *

Wendy walked slowly up the stairs to her room, the once short hallway now impossibly long.

Even in her shock, Wendy's quick mind understood the implications of this first refusal, and foresaw several doors of opportunity formerly open, slam shut. Her biggest mistake she realized, had been in always assuming her parent's would support her decisions, and agree with any dreams she had for her future, traveling among them. She now saw this was not so. They had planned it for her already, and they expected her to grow up and get married like everyone else. This denying of her wish to travel, this was the first step, in what they no doubt deemed 'the proper way' of setting her straight on what she was allowed to do.

Wendy was so confused, her confidence in her parents so shaken, she considered a mad urge to pack up her things and run far away, to a place where the freedom she so desperately longed for could finally be found. But of course no such place existed, and she doubted she'd ever find the courage to really leave home, as she suspected Aunt Louise had. If Mr. Darling had intended for his daughter's view of their aunt to be marred with her supposed "unacceptable ambitions and ideas" he was sadly mistaken, for though Wendy's dream was crushed, she admired her aunt all the more for perservering with hers.

Dinner that evening was a very quite affair, everyone but Michael silent. He remained oblivious to the tension, and chattered happily until John, who could feel something was amiss, told him to be quiet. Wendy, unable to endure the silence any longer, asked to be excused almost immediately after finishing her meal. Aunt Louise, who was wearing a very sad, but thoughtful expression, sent a Wendy a glance. Her bright green eyes were unusually subdued, but a hint of their sparkle still lingered, as if she had not given up on her mission for Wendy to see the world just yet.

Wendy, very lost in what appeared to her to be a dark, unkind world at the moment, missed the look, and went quietly to her room. She lay in her bed for what seemed like hours, unable to sleep, tossing and turning as the lights inside the house went out one by one.

She had finally fallen into a restless slumber when something in her subconsciousness stirred, and she awoke suddenly. The nursery was silent as Wendy gazed around her sleepily, her eyes landing on the moonbeams splashed across her coverlet from the window. The faint gong of the father clock in the hallway downstairs sounded beneath her, and she counted twelve rings before the house was once again still.

She was again teetering on the shores of sleep when a faint tap startled her awake once more, and she sat up, her heart fluttering nervously. She hesitated, then pushed back her blanket and swung her legs over the side of the bed. She waited, then stood up and walked quietly toward the window, hardly daring to breath, a familiar feeling stirring inside her.

She peered through the glass, at the silent rooftops of London beneath her, and the pale moon that hung in the sky. It was only then that she noticed a loose tile tapping against the side slope of the roof with every sway of wind. Disappointment overwhelmed her, and she turned, her eyes landing listlessly on the fireplace, and then on it's blackened embers. On a sudden longing for warmth, she walked over and removed the grate, and was in the midst of reaching for the poker when a soft breeze blew down the chimney, stirring her hair. She moved closer, looking curiously at the soot trickling down the chute when quite suddenly, someone tumbled into the room, knocking her onto the floor.

Her eyes opened, dazed, and then widened as her heart leaped and she gazed up into the grinning face suspended above her.

"Hullo, Wendy_._"

* * *

Thanks to all my awesome reviewers ;)


	4. A Wish Granted

* * *

Chapter Four

* * *

For Wendy Darling an eternity came and went as she gazed up into those glinting green eyes, unable to speak even a word. They stared back at her intently, brimming over with mischief and fun, their devilish sparkle enchanting. The elfin face hovering above her had not changed, nor had the charming smile that now graced it. Her reaction to both remained the same: a rush of butterflies and giddiness throughout, dazing her once again.

Tinkerbell flitted around them as he extended a hand to help her up, his mouth curving into a grin. She took it, feeling her heart skip at the touch, and continued to stare, their eyes inextricably locked. She was strangely aware of their surroundings at that moment, of the dusky shadows cast against the walls, of the entire stillness of the house, broken only by the muted ticking of the grandfather clock below.

His hair, Wendy noticed, remained endearingly tousled, and gleamed reddish in the moonlight from where it escaped the rim of his green cap. His lithe form was half hidden by the shadows, giving only a glimpse of his green attire and slippered feet. But it was his presence that Wendy felt strongest, so familiar and yet so foreign, exuding daring and magic and intrigue all at once.

"_Peter._" She breathed finally, the word so soft it was nearly a whisper. Her voice in that moment was indescribable, vibrant with so many emotions, and laced with such joy, a warmth quite engulfed Peter's frame at the sound of it.

"You came back."

She spoke the words in disbelief, stunned at the very idea of their truth. Her eyes were shining with something other than tears, and had Peter caught the flicker of feeling within them, he would have seen what Wendy had yet to discover.

Alas he did not, for Peter was never good at such things, and instead answered rather matter-of-factly;"Course I did. Told you I would, didn't I?"

"Yes, but...it's been so_ long_." Wendy answered, finding that her surprise was very quickly wearing away to be replaced with an excitement she remembered feeling several times before.

Peter laughed, a boyish sound. "Wendy, it's only been a few weeks."

A strange, half-frightened look crossed Wendy's face at that, and her heart began to pound.

"No Peter, it's been many weeks. It's been...it's been four years."

At first he didn't seem to understand, but presently his face grew confused.

"Four years?" He asked, and laughed again as he turned a somersault in the air. "You look the same."

This was partly true, for Wendy looked very much as she had the first time he'd come for them. Her nightgown, a present version of the pale blue one she'd once worn, fell around her in soft folds, and she knew for certain the ribbon she wore in her hair was the same- she'd kept it, on the excuse of tying her hair back at night, sentimental that it was the one item from that time she had not outgrown.

Yet, as gratified at his words as she was, Wendy couldn't help but wonder what he would think when he saw her in proper light, during the day, dressed the way her mother now insisted she must.

Would he like the change?

She pushed the unsettling thought from her mind, aware Peter was hovering in the air before her in a way that seemed to say he was waiting for something. If the time lapse between then and now bothered him, he didn't show it. Instead, he looked at her excitedly and said; "Where are the boys?"

"They've moved across the hall-" Wendy began, but before she could finish he'd flown out the door.

She ran after him, into Michael's room, where Peter was giving Tink a good shake over the bed. The pixie dust exploded in a cloud of glitter, covering Michael from head to foot. He snorted and rolled over, unaware he was slowly rising. The blanket slid off as he ascended, and Peter flew up to meet him. He cupped his hands around his mouth, and sending Wendy a wink, leaned in close to Michael's ear.

"Hey you!" He said loudly.

Michael's eyes flew open with a start. He uttered a frightened yell, then caught sight of Peter, and uttered another one, this time in delight.

"Peter!" He shouted ecstatically, his face filled with a mix of wonder and disbelief.

Peter grinned, crossing his arms over his chest. "That's right. Come on!"

Michael stared at him for a moment, then flapped his arms eagerly, and slowly drifted out the door. "You're covered in soot!" He said laughing, as he looked at Peter's smudged green tunic.

"I came in though the chimney."

"The chimney!" Michael echoed, astonished.

"Uh-huh. Where's John's room?"

"That way." Wendy said smiling as she pointed, thinking about Peter's unusual entrance for the first time. Before she could ask, Tinkerbell vengefully poured pixie dust into her eyes, and flew after Peter in a huff. In spite of herself, Wendy laughed. Well, some things never _did _change. She began to rise, even as she swiped at her now sparkling vision. She'd bumped into the wall and the ceiling before she was finally able to clear her eyes, only to see a shocked John fly out his doorway looking as if Christmas had come early.

"H-he's back." He told Wendy in a confused manner, humorously stating the obvious as he tried to adjust his glasses and not crash into the hall table. John had clearly convinced himself it was a dream as well. He kept looking down, as if to assure his mind he was indeed floating, and began to wave his arms akwardly in an attempt to go faster. His elbow swiped a picture frame in the process, sending it to the floor with a clatter.

Wendy's finger flew to her lips. "Shhh! Mother and Father will hear!" Her voice was the last thing from reprimanding however, for it came out rather high, and a little unsteady. She was so happy, she felt her heart would burst.

"No they won't." Michael said confidently. "They never do."

"But Nana doe-" The words were barely out of her mouth, when Nana began a tremendous barking down below.

John groaned.

"Open the window, Wendy!" Peter instructed. The hurried back to the nursery, and Wendy flew down and unhooked the latch, a great thrill of realization rushing through her. As if by instinct, the windows blew open, inviting a great gush of cool air into the room that ruffled every head. Michael surged through first and whooped loudly, turning loop-de-loops as he went. John immediately followed, nearly flying into the window frame before he steadied himself, his nightshirt flapping wildly in the breeze.

Wendy however, hesitated, hovering before the window seat as the inky sky beckoned her.

Hastily closing her eyes, she tried to convince herself.

_It's real._

She took a deep breath and opened them, only to find Peter's bright gaze on her own.

_He's_ real.

Somehow, that was all it took. An eager glance, a pair of bright eyes, and suddenly she knew. It was _not_ a dream. Every part of her was truly, fully, _awake_. Her heart soared in response to this, and as if sensing her sudden belief, Peter mock-bowed and gestured toward the window.

"After you." He said graciously, his eyes twinkling with the adventure that lay in wait.

To Wendy's surprise, she blushed,and quickly let herself fly out after her brothers. Nana's insistent barking faded away as she rose, higher and higher until her old life, her growing up life, seemed but a distant memory far below. She felt so alive, and so exhilarated, she couldn't understand ever having doubted herself. Her memories were _true_.

Peter soon joined her, riding expertly on the wind before diving down to join the boys. She followed him, but flew several feet higher, not trusting herself to swoop between the rooftops as the boys did, hollering and laughing as they went. John it seemed, had finally mastered flying again. She was watching her brother's chase each other when Peter shot up quite suddenly beside her, and promptly rolled lazily onto his back, his hands tucked behind his head.

"Wendy, why haven't you told any stories?"

"Stories?" She asked, wobbling a bit as she went through an air current.

"You used to tell such good ones. But when I came to the window, it was always dark inside." He turned on his side to look at her, his cheek resting on his hand. His eyes were curious.

"You came to the window?" Wendy asked startled, dodging a heavily smoking chimney at the same time.

"Sure. Lot's of times." Peter said offhandedly, zooming upwards a bit before diving beneath her and flying on her other side. Tink followed in hot pursuit.

"But...but why didn't you come in?" Wendy asked, unable to understand how he could simply fly away each time.

"I couldn't. It wouldn't let me."

"Wouldn't _let _you?" Wendy repeated, astonished.

He nodded, staring at her inquisitively.

"Why ever not?" She asked, perplexed.

He shrugged, unfazed. "Don't know, so I decided to try the fireplace this time." His eyes danced, as though congratulating his ingenuity.

Wendy thought this over. "I...haven't told a story by the window in a long time." She admitted slowly. "Sometimes I tell them to Michael, but in his room, when John's asleep or my voice keeps him awake." She paused, considering something. Peter had always come during a story. Did they perhaps..._open_ the window for him? What if...what if the magic woven through the telling of a story was what made his visits to London possible? Was Peter's coming really so tied in with her silly tales?

"They're not silly." Peter said suddenly. "The Lost Boys have been begging for one, but since you weren't there, I tried it myself." He grinned. "It was _awful. _I bet they're still laughing over it._"_ He gave a chuckle. She was just about to ask how he'd read her mind when Peter suddenly grabbed her hand. His was warm, and fit perfectly with hers, in what Wendy found a most unnerving manner. She was scarcely aware of him pulling her upwards when she realized the large yellow disk glowing before her was the great clock tower. She gave a quiet gasp, unaware they'd flown so high. John and Michael appeared beside them looking elated, their arms spread wide.

"Twelve twenty!" John shouted, grinning over at them. The small black hand moved and Michael giggled, giving him a playful shove.

"Wrong! It's twelve twenty-one!"

As they rose still higher, London became nothing but a twinkling of lights below them.

Wendy caught her breath. From here, one could see the whole of the Thames River as it meandered through the city, glistening faintly as it went. The city itself spread out beneath them beautifully, it's skyline framed with a mystical air only darkness could give. She blinked, so bedazzled by everything that had occurred, an expression similar to one she'd worn not long ago slipped softly over her face, Wendy appearing at once quite lovely in her uninterrupted bliss.

This time, Peter saw it, and as he looked at her something quite peculiar happened. It was so peculiar none of the children noticed it, for they were entirely caught up in the promise of Neverland, making it impossible for anything else to gain their attention. Happen it did, however, and the happening consisted of a great silence descending from the sky. Within several short seconds, London had become strangely and entirely _still,_ with not a breeze nor a ripple nor a rustling of leaves to be found. Even the stars stopped their twinkling, but instead seemed to hold their breath, waiting...waiting.

The Second Star to the right was directly before the children now, for they had finally reached their destination. Now all that remained was for Peter to take them there, through the star, and onto the island that awaited them. The air was thick with tension and excitement, and it was then, as Peter soared forward and began to pick up speed, that Wendy noticed it. The silence, the breathlessness, and suddenly, herself_. _An odd rush of feeling swept through her, and she realized she was standing on the balcony of Lord Melbourne's estate, watching a star fall across the heavens. Then she was squeezing her eyes shut, thinking:

_I wish Peter would come back,_ while her heart wished a great many more unsaid things.

Now she was staring at her father, hearing his voice refuse her as he said, _I'm sorry Wendy, but you cannot go to Scotland. _Now she was in the hall running from Michael, playing swords, dancing with Jack, speaking with Violet, patting Nana, smiling at Aunt Lydia, falling asleep on the window seat, looking at the moon... the images began to flicker and swirl, rushing together in her head till they were one, spinning faster and faster until suddenly, they stopped. With a start, Wendy realized she was still flying, that she had somehow relived a great many previous moments, and that everything was suddenly on edge.

Even as they rushed toward it, the great star before them winked once, brightly, and then quite suddenly went out. For a minute, time hung suspended. And Wendy understood. She was frightened, terrified of what she'd done, but she understood. Her wish had been granted, and in some inexplicable way, the Second Star had been part of it.

The spell broke without warning, as Peter jerked back, halting everyone.

"It's gone." Michael whispered, stunned. "The star...it's gone."

And Wendy's last thought, even as she looked on in disbelief, was that a very different sort of adventure had just begun.

* * *

**A/N:** I will be going away for two weeks, and this chapter is most likely the last update I will be able to manage before I leave. Look for Chapter Five around August 15th, as that's when I get back. I hope everyone sticks around, and once again, thanks to my wonderful reviewers!!


	5. Unexpected

* * *

Chapter Five

* * *

It was a strangely silent group that flew back to the nursery that night. Though the soft sounds and whispers of London had returned, the voices of the children had not. If Wendy had believed Peter's return to be a dream before, she was certain of it now. The idea of Neverland gone, simply vanished away, was so impossible, so unthinkable, it was too alarming to fathom.

_It's my fault, _Wendy thought desperately, replaying the balcony scene in her mind again and again. _My _fault.

Beside her, Peter glanced behind him a fifth time and then a sixth. Beneath his startled exterior lay a bewildered confusion, so intense in it's magnitude that Wendy was forced to look away. Guilt, instant and strong, descended upon her unbidden. It tugged on her heart and harried her conscience, but though she tried, the words would not come. How could she confess such a thing? Moreover, how could she fix it?

There was no answer she knew, and she trembled suddenly, a cool wind gusting past them. It fluttered the curtains of the nursery window, faint shadows against the glass.

The boys entered first, slowly, in a trance-like fashion that frightened her more then any outbursts or crying could. Peter followed, his quick step unusually lagging. They landed noiselessly, on the bed and on the floor, each unaware of their surroundings or position. Wendy came last, settling softly onto the window seat, her face troubled. The eyes of all met, and a single sentence seemed to form, unspoken, and hover before them.

_Where has it gone?_

The blank faces did not answer, but the clock did, chiming it's hour beneath them. The spell had returned, settling upon them like a cloak as it encased the silence. Even Tinkerbell, her bright aura dimmed, flew nervously round Peter's still frame, her emotions unusually subdued. After the initial shock, after the idea of there _being_ no adventure tonight had sunk in, the only though they'd had was for home; of the safety of the nursery, of Nana, of Mother and Father asleep close by. They'd meant to puzzle it out when they arrived, try to understand it, but no one knew how to begin.

Peter had simply followed them, bewildered by it all, not entirely aware it seemed, of what this meant for him. For now Wendy saw what she had not seen before, as she realized this went far beyond her own mistakes. It meant something larger then that, something more. Neverland _was_ Peter, and Peter was Neverland. But now...

She stopped, and pushed the thoughts back as far as they would go, unable to carry through. Michael sent her a pleading look, his eyes begging her to explain, to make _sense_ of it all as he knew she must be able. She shook her head avoiding his gaze, and his eyes dropped listlessly to the floor, his small shoulders curving forward. The silence stretched out, dragging on. It would seem that that night, begun so strangely, would end in the way it had started; with a deep, enchanted stillness that closed heavy lids, and brought distant, hazy dreams the children would not remember. As their slow, rhythmic breathing filled the room, the stillness ebbed away, it's task complete.

_Don't worry,_ it seemed to whisper as it slipped back to whence it came. _Sleep._

It knew where it's power lay- in the dreamy minds of children not quite grown up, just as it knew it could not touch the figure on the floor, nor could it enchant _those_ bright eyes to close. No, those would stayed open, first curious and then wondering, as they watched the midnight moon, and then at last the rising sun.

And sometime, during those wavering twilight hours, a soft voice was heard to say; "We'll get back Tink. I promise."

* * *

"Children! It's breakfast time!" The voice blew cheerily into the room, and filtered slowly through three sleepy minds in various stages of awakening. John woke first, and struggled awkwardly to his feet, wondering as he pushed his glasses on when he'd left his bed to curl up on Wendy's floor.

"Children?" The voice called again. It was Aunt Louise John realized, and not his mother as he'd first thought. There was an expectant pause and then;"Good gracious, where have they got too?"

He quickly padded over to Michael, who lay asleep on the bed with one arm thrown wide. After several nudges and a bit of prodding, the tousled boy was eventually awoken. Michael rubbed his eyes tiredly, and then glanced at Wendy, who was sitting up on the window seat wide-eyed and alert. She gave him an anxious look, sparking his memory.

"_Peter_." They said together, the previous night rushing back all at once. Each cast a wild glance round the room, but the green clad boy was nowhere to be found.

"Where has he gone to, do you think?" John asked nervously.

"What if he's disappeared!" Michael cried, much distressed. "What if he can't live without Neverland! Or Hook got him! Or the Indians came an-"

"Michael," Wendy said soothingly, "it will be alright. I'm sure Peter's only gone to...to explore. London's very big, you know. He'll want to see everything." She had no idea of course, but it would be so like Peter to do so. She hoped fervently it was true.

Michael considered this, and calmed visibly. Then his face puckered, and he coughed, pinching his nose together with forefinger and thumb. " Ph_ew_. What is that horrid smell?" They turned toward the door, and were all momentarily distracted by the odd, rich scent wafting down the hall. There was a faint banging and a clattering of cutlery downstairs.

"I suppose we'll have to go see." John said gravely, for he had an idea of what it would be, and was rather hoping his guess was wrong.

"We should all get dressed-" Wendy began, as John turned to leave. Michael however, had caught her hand, and was looking at her with large, worried eyes, his mind drawn back to the previous subject.

"He'll be alright, won't he Wendy? He'll come back, and we'll sort everything out and maybe he can even stay a bit until..." He paused and rushed on. "Won't that be alright? For him to stay?" A glint of excitement flickered in his eyes.

"I...I don't know." Wendy replied, suddenly nervous as she tried to imagine Peter in her daily life and failed terribly. "I suppose he'll have to until...until..."

Michael nodded. "Until...you know. That bit's fixed."

They nodded at each other, and somehow this eased things a little, made them feel as though perhaps things _would _be alright.

"We'd best go downstairs now, I think we've kept them waiting long enough." Wendy reasoned, quickly sliding a housecoat over her shoulders. She couldn't remember the last time she'd gone downstairs dressed like this. Perhaps when she was little, and didn't know any better. Michael seemed oblivious to the improperness of looking so rumpled, but instead ran some fingers through his short curls, standing them on end.

"Oh, don't! You look dreadful," Wendy laughed. He grinned, and they hurried to the dining room.

John was already seated, looking very much the part of a martyr set to speak his last words. Before him, on a white china plate, sat a magnificent mass of a quivering, lumpy, yellow colored _something_.

Aunt Louise, pot and spoon in hand, beamed at them as they entered.

"They join us at last! Have a seat now Michael, next to John if you don't mind. Wendy, right here." She busily spooned equal amounts of the substance onto each new plate, unaware John was turning a faint green.

Mr. Darling, a spoonful halfway to his mouth, smiled at them weakly. "Your aunt decided to make breakfast for us this morning. Very kind of her, isn't it?" His words quite clearly said _and you will thank her for it, and eat it as best you can._

They thanked her in unison, but she waved it away, laughing. "Now, now, no need for that." Her curls were dusted with flour, and she wore a speckled white apron over yet another, very becoming red dress. Together, with the spoon in her hand and the look on her face, she looked every bit the common housewife, and nothing like a lady. And Wendy, to her surprise, found she liked it.

"Is this... cake?" Michael asked cautiously, poking at his portion with squinted eyes.

"Fiddlesticks, it's an egg pudding soufflé. Quite the fashion in Paris you know."

"Do they all smell like this? In Paris, I mean?" John asked disdainfully, indicating the Parisians would be mad to eat it if it did.

"Why certainly! Don't you know about Paris, my boy? Now that's a heavenly place, if I ever saw one. And the people! Always sniffing and smelling about. They've got sharp noses you see, for they make the worlds best perfumes. I bought myself a bottle once. It was dreadfully expensive, but worth every pence. I smelled of summer rain for two weeks."

Michael, just on the verge of swallowing his first attempt, was about to ask how one bottled summer rain when three things happened all at once. Nana barked, Wendy dropped her spoon, and John choked on the mouthful he'd only just taken. Peter was hovering in the doorway, smiling brightly. They watched, frozen, as he swooped down over the table, plucked a grape from the fruit bowl and then settled himself in the chair next to Wendy's.

"Hello sleepyheads." He said, grinning. Tink zoomed up beside him, scattering pixie dust all over the silverware and Michael's pudding. The children stared. Then slowly, cautiously, they turned to look at their parents.

It was the first time they would witness Peter's strange power, for though Mr. Darling had certainly felt a draft, and Mrs. Darling had the distinct impression something had brushed past her hair, they gave no sign of noticing the new addition to the table. Or rather they did, but in a peculiar way that was limited only to passing glances and faint smiles directed towards him. As if they sensed _something _was there, though they were unsure of what.

What the children missed, however, were the eyes of their aunt. For she had gone quite still at Peter's entrance, and now, as she gazed about the room, they landed on him with a curious sort of wonder. Not quite seeing, but feeling, as the atmosphere around him changed to one of fervor.

"Is something the matter?" asked Mrs. Darling worriedly, aware only that her children were staring at the empty seat with rather odd expressions.

"The matter?" John asked, turning quickly to face her. "No no, nothings the matter. Why would anything be the matter?"

"I only thought-"

"We're fine mother, really." Wendy said hastily. Michael nodded violently, and as if to prove his point, took a monstrous bite of the dreaded pudding without thinking. His expression changed from revulsion to one of utter surprise.

"Why, it's... good!" He said when he'd finished, his voice filled with disbelief. Both older siblings sent him startled glances, as though he'd just declared to take up tap-dancing.

"_What_?" John gasped, still struggling to finish his own.

"It's the pixie dust!" Wendy whispered suddenly. Peter laughed and Tink looked annoyed. She hated accidentally helping anyone. Only now Peter was whispering something in her ear. She pouted, then grudgingly sprinkled some on the plates of the others.

They rushed it down as fast as they could, and breathlessly asked to be excused.

"Well, I suppose." Mr. Darling said doubtfully, absently wondering what the devil they were so excited about.

"Thank you Father, and thank you Aunt Louise." They blurted out, before eagerly running back upstairs. Peter, unnoticed, tipped his cap and bowed before flitting out the door behind them.

"You're welcome," Aunt Louise said smiling, addressing no one in particular.

* * *

"Where did you go Peter?" Michael asked eagerly.

"They can't _see_ you," John interrupted excitedly. "It means you can go anywhere with us!"

"Not _anywhere_-" Wendy began anxiously.

"I was looking for a way to go back," Peter said blithely. "Sometimes, when I fly over certain places, if feels as though I could."

"You mean...there are other ways of getting to Neverland?"

Peter cocked his head. "I don't know. I never tried it."

"What sorts of places?" asked John.

"Those big gardens you have-"

"Kensington Gardens!" Michael cried.

"The one spot, with the fountain. Tink said she felt a glimmer there." He explained, then paused as he tilted his head again, curious. "I've been there before, I think."

"_Before_?" John asked. "Before what?"

"I don't know." Peter said again. "I don't remember."

"Before Neverland." Michael said in a hushed tone, his eyes wide as saucers. They let that one sink in, the room suddenly quiet. It was a new idea, Peter's history, one Wendy tucked away, privately resolving to think about later.

"Let's go then! To the gardens!" John said abruptly, looking as he did when he picked up a mystery novel and was eager to solve it.

"We can look for the glimmers!" Michael added delightedly.

And that was that. They got dressed in a record amount of time, and were having one more rushed conference in the hall when Mrs. Darling ascended the stairs, an odd little smile playing on her lips.

"Wendy?" She called. Three anxious heads popped up, and then shuffled around, trying to hide Peter from her view before they remembered she couldn't see him. A fact, it seemed, that would take some getting used to.

"Yes?" Wendy answered, a little unsteadily.

"There's a visitor for you in the parlor."

"A-a visitor...for me?" Wendy asked, astonished. Only esteemed guests were directed to the _parlor_.

"Yes, dear." Her mother said smiling. " You should fix your hair a bit perhaps, would you like to me to-"

"That's alright, Mother, if you don't mind." Wendy said quickly, smoothing her dress down a little. She was feeling distinctly nervous, for a reason she could not understand.

"Very well then, come along." Mrs. Darling said.

Wendy looked back at three curious faces, and whispered _wait for me, _before picking up her skirts and hurrying down after her mother. She tried desperately to guess who would wish to visit her at such an hour, in the parlor no less, but could think of no one. Mrs. Darling paused before the wooden doors, one slim hand resting on the curved handle.

"Now Wendy," she began. "I know this is very new for you, but you mustn't be worried about it. Your father and I are just outside the door. If ever you should like us to come in, or feel ill at ease, simply ring the little bell on the side table. This is a serious matter, but still only the beginning and to be taken lightly, if you understand my meaning. We trust you will make the right decisions." She smiled again. " Marion has brought some tea in for you."

Wendy had been listening to all of this with a rather bewildered expression, too speechless to ask any questions.

"Alright then," Mrs. Darling said, giving her daughters hand a soft squeeze. "Good luck, and remember what I told you."

Wendy stepped slowly into the room, still bewildered, only to meet the dark eyes of Jack Taylor. He was sitting on the sofa, but rose when she entered, bowing politely. He smiled at her, his eyes tipping up at the corners.

"Good morning Wend-Miss Darling," He said, promptly correcting himself. He ran a quick hand through his curls, looking anxious.

"Good morning," Wendy answered faintly, forgetting the obligatory _Mr. Taylor._

"I was wondering if you would like...if you would be interested in going for a stroll with me in the park- chaperoned of course." He added quickly.

"I..." Wendy began. Her hand fluttered to her throat, but found no necklace to fiddle with.

"If you are not in the humor for a stroll, please don't accept on my account," He said hastily, sensing her hesitance. "It's really alright, I could come back-"

"I...I would love too." Wendy said, then inhaled a quick breath, uncertain where the answer had come from.

"You would?" He asked, sounding elated.

"Yes." Wendy half-whispered.

"Wonderful." He said smiling, then offered her his arm. "My Lady?"

She took it, wondering what she'd gotten herself into, and what on earth had possessed her do it.

What had her mother said? _We trust you will make the right decisions._

Wendy sighed.

_Oh, dear._

* * *

**A/N**: Sorry for the long wait! Hope everyone enjoyed the chapter. Comments always welcome ;)


	6. Authors Note

Hello Readers,

It has been a very long time since I've worked on this story, but I have recieved some reviews as of late, and I thought it important to inform you: I absolutely intend to finish Wendy and Peter's tale, so look for a long overdue update this Christmas Break.

Thankyou for your patience, and happy holidays.

- Paper Castles.


	7. Authors note 2

Hello readers,

I had promised an update quite awhile ago which did not happen (around Christmas to be exact)

Unfortunately I was writing too many stories at once and this one was left behind. However, I got several emails asking for it to be continued and was quite touched by some of the reviews as well. I have begun to continue it as of this week and the new chapter is nearly complete (I promise!). It will be out either this week or next. I hope you enjoy it and sorry for the long wait.

- Paper Castles.


End file.
